


How to Love a Billionaire

by Teddy1008



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - BDSM, Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, BDSM, BDSM AU, BDSM Scene, Blowjobs, Bondage and Discipline, But Tony is still filthy rich, Discipline, Dom Bucky Barnes, Dom Pepper Potts, Dom Steve, Dom Steve Rogers, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Play, Heavy BDSM, Iron Man Doesn't exist, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Polyamory, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Punishment, Shameless Smut, Smut, Spanking, Sub Tony, Sub Tony Stark, Subspace, Threesome - M/M/M, Tony Stark is a brat, dom bucky, handjobs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2019-07-06 17:34:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15890787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teddy1008/pseuds/Teddy1008
Summary: Tony Stark isn’t one to hate Doms. No, he would just much rather prefer to live his life happily without someone constantly hovering over him. But of course, things never work out for him, because the next thing he knows, the law is forcing him to go to a stupid Matchmaking ceremony. And to make things even worse, he gets paired with two Doms. As if one wasn’t enough.





	1. Hallelujah, My Ass

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! So this is my first BDSM fic in the Marvel Cinematic Universe. I hope I manage to do it justice! :) Just a few things everyone should know, just to clear any misunderstandings: 
> 
> In this universe, Iron Man doesn't exist, but Tony is still a billionaire (as you may have read in the tags). He doesn't make weapons, but technology, etc, to earn his money, which is where he gets his wealth (and it's also thanks to his dad). Also, Captain America and the Winter Soldier don't exist either; it's just post-serum Steve and good old Bucky. Next, the tags will be updated as I write this story. I've got it all planned out, so let's hope I manage to write it all well and swell without any trouble. Also, I use British spelling, not American, so fair warning and apologies to those of you who absolutely detest British spelling :P 
> 
> My goal is to update at least once a week or every two weeks, but apologies if I can't manage to do that (being on a schedule for updating never works out for me, oops). Also, a great big thank you and shoutout to my amazing beta Mary! Anyway, I'll stop talking now. I hope I haven't forgotten anything :)
> 
> Enjoy, and let me know what you thought! Next chapter will be up hopefully in a week from now! <3

Tony wouldn’t exactly call it hatred, what he felt towards Dominants. No, of course not. Hate, after all, was a very, very strong word. He hated assholes who deserved to be in jail. He hated rich people who waved their money around carelessly, flaunting it for the entire world to see. He hated avocado.

But he didn’t hate Doms. He would much rather prefer to call it … disdain. A strong dislike. Irritation. And if he had a choice, he would never choose to be with a Dom.

But of course, things never worked out for him, because on the day of his thirtieth birthday, when he walked down to his workshop to lock himself in there for a good thirty eight hours or so, JARVIS announced, “Good morning, Sir. You have an email flagged as ‘Important’ that came in this morning precisely at 5:52 AM.”

Tony groaned, plopping down in his chair and swivelling in it, just to stall so he wouldn’t have to see whatever this so called important email was. “Who the _fuck_ would email me at 6 in the morning, JARVIS?”

“Actually, Sir, many people have done so, if not earlier, in the past,” JARVIS clipped.

“Ugh. Don’t tell me that; you’re already making my head hurt, JARVIS. I think I’m traumatized from all those times Hammer tried to do business early in the morning with Stark Industries.” Tony stood up, heading towards Dum-E. “Hey, Dum-E. You still have that dunce cap on your head? Good. You damn well deserve it. Don’t ever knock over my coffee mug over again or I’ll make a robotic dunce cap that’ll stick to your head until the day I die.”

The robot whirred, and if Tony didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought it sounded sad. Which, maybe it did. Just a little.

Rolling his eyes, he just sighed and placed his hands on his hips. “Who’s the email from, JARVIS?”

“It appears it is from the National Organization of Dominants and Submissives, otherwise known as NODS.”

“Why the fuck do I have an email from them?” Tony snorted, running a hand through his hair. “I sure as hell didn’t _sign up_ for one of their stupid get-togethers where people practically eye-fuck each other.” He picked up a piece of paper where he’d written a bunch of ideas for the new StarkPhone 6 he was planning, frowning down at it. God, had he been _drunk_ while coming up with these ideas? Who the fuck would want a pen holder attached to their phone?

“It appears that today is the twenty-ninth of May, or, in other words, your thirtieth birthday. A warm congratulations, Sir.”

Then, Tony froze, a sudden realization hitting him at JARVIS’ words. He was thirty. Which meant … shit. His name and information had been automatically inputted into the system. That was common knowledge; fuck, how had he _forgotten_ something as important as this?

He must’ve spoken the last bit out loud, for JARVIS informed him dryly, “I did try to warn you, Sir, but you put me on mute, claiming that you didn’t want my opinion on things as irrelevant as your thirtieth birthday.”

“God, fuck, JARVIS! You know that everyone’s thirtieth birthday is important!” Tony gripped his hair, trying to figure out what to do. It really wasn’t JARVIS’ fault, he knew. The AI was programmed to follow each and every single one of his orders and commands unless Tony’s life or health was in significant danger. He wouldn’t have been able to find a loophole in something as simple as being ordered to mute himself.

But still … crap. Tony had been planning; he’d had all these fabulous and grand ideas about how he, Tony Stark, would be the first to avoid being automatically registered into the system when he reached his thirtieth birthday. The ideas had ranged from downright holding a petition in order to change the law to hacking into the system and just having JARVIS shut it all down.

“Would you like me to pull up the email, Sir?”

“Yeah, yeah, go ahead.” Tony let his hands drop from his hair down to his sides, mentally bracing himself for whatever was in this email. JARVIS pulled it up wordlessly, which Tony was thankful for, because he wasn’t sure he was in the mood to be conversational when his entire life was about to be ruined (and okay, he knew he was being all dramatic, but still! This was the moment his life would go downhill).

The email was long and detailed, which made Tony hate it all the more. 

 

> _Dear Mr. Anthony Stark,_
> 
> _It has come to the attention of the National Organization of Dominants and Submissives (NODS) that you have reached the age of 30, otherwise known as the maximum age Dominants and submissives may apply to be registered into the system. Unfortunately, our Assistant Researchers have stated that you have not yet manually registered your information into the system. Thus, regrettably and by default, we have entered your name, ANTHONY EDWARD STARK, as well as your contact information, into the system to be matched with a Dominant. As you are now registered in the system, finding a Dominant is now your first priority. Thus, you are now free to schedule a Matchmaking Ceremony, either by going on our official website or by calling us at any time of the day. As we have not actually registered you for a Matchmaking Ceremony, only entered your name into the National Organization of Dominants and Submissives’ (NODS) system, you must now schedule your own Matchmaking Ceremony. Please abide by the law and schedule a Matchmaking Ceremony within 3 days of receiving this email. Failure to do so will result in an Assistant Researcher registering your name, ANTHONY EDWARD STARK, into the closest possible Sub House, where you will receive treatment to suit your needs as a submissive._
> 
> _We hope to see you soon at one of our Matchmaking Ceremonies, and if you have any questions, please feel free to contact us. The National Organization of Dominants and Submissives (NODS) is always here to support you and be of assistance to you._
> 
> _Best regards,_
> 
> _Adrienne Brown (Dominant)_

Well, then.

“Put it away, JARVIS,” Tony finally said, though he would’ve much rather preferred to say, _‘Delete this email from this entire universe so that I don’t ever have to hear about NODS again, JARVIS.’_ Tony sighed, wishing he could just jump down a rabbit hole and never have to think about being matched with a Dominant. God, rabbits were lucky. They didn’t have to go through all this bullshit in their lives—

“Would you like me to pull up the official website so you can schedule a Matchmaking Ceremony, Sir?” JARVIS interrupted his thoughts, speaking plainly and expectantly.

“Ugh. Do I have to?” Tony complained, almost whining. Almost.

“It’s either that or go to a Sub House, Sir, and while I’m neither a Dominant or submissive, I would think that being matched with a Dominant would be much more preferable,” JARVIS responded.

Double ugh. Why did JARVIS have to be so reasonable? Tony thought wryly. The AI was definitely right about one thing; Tony would prefer, barely, just by a margin, being paired with a Dom than going to a Sub House. Why?

To put it plainly, Sub Houses sucked. Tony shuddered, remembering all the articles he’d stumbled upon of Sub Houses and how medical, how _clinical,_ they were in their “treatment.” Sub Houses just barely provided what submissives needed in order to function. Besides, Tony knew that he’d be a goner if he was actually registered into a Sub House. It was a myth, but most people believed that the submissives in Sub Houses were the subs that nobody wanted, the worthless ones, the _outcasts_ in society. There would be no being rescued or taken in by a Dominant whatsoever after being entered into a Sub House.

So, yeah. It definitely sucked, and Tony was certainly not going to be registered into one. Hell, he would rather live off of avocados for the rest of his life, and that was saying a lot.

“Sir? I’m afraid you still haven’t given me a clear answer. Would you like me to pull up—”

“Yeah, yeah, do it, JARVIS,” Tony interrupted, shaking his head briskly. Goddammit, Tony, wake up, he told himself. He was going to schedule a Matchmaking Ceremony, and he was definitely not going to fuck this up. This Matchmaking Ceremony would determine how miserable his life would be from now on, and Tony would prefer to feel less miserable until the day he died, rather than a why-the-fuck-am-I-not-dead-yet-please-kill-me miserable.

Tony stared at the screen in front of him, and he sighed before reluctantly clicking on, ‘Register for a Ceremony!’ God, this was torture. He could literally feel his soul withering to death, and he hadn’t even started yet.

It was surprisingly simple and straightforward. Tony had expected NODS to go all crazy with their scheduling. The first bit was the easiest. He entered his full name, age, his birth date, his gender, and the pronouns he went by. Next, however, he was asked to enter what his safeword was, and unfortunately for Tony, it seemed to be a required field, judging by the little star or whatever the fuck it was called next to the question.

See, the thing was, Tony had never … he didn’t actually have a safeword. Tony had never had a reason to _need_ a safeword. Even if he did have one, what would he have used it for anyway? For when JARVIS told him he needed to get rest? Now _that_ was a whole nother level of stupid.

No matter. He would have to work his way around this question. He tapped his fingers on the side of the holographic keyboard in front of him, trying to think of a safeword for the first time in his life. What would be a good word he would never randomly say?

Tony tapped his fingers on his chin, then brightened when it finally came to him. “Ha!” he muttered triumphantly, then typed his answer into the box awaiting him.

The rest was pretty simple, Tony knowing exactly what his answers were. When he was done, he scrolled up, just to read over his answers just in case he felt the need to change something. His application for a Ceremony read:

 

> **_*FULL NAME:_ ** _ANTHONY EDWARD STARK_
> 
> **_PREFERRED NAME:_ ** _TONY_
> 
> **_*AGE:_ ** _30_
> 
> **_*BIRTH DATE (MM/DD):_ ** _05/29_
> 
> **_*BIOLOGICAL GENDER:_ ** _MALE_
> 
> **_PRONOUNS:_ ** _HE/HIS_
> 
> **_*SAFEWORD:_ ** _SAFEWORD_
> 
> **_LIKES:_ ** _INDEPENDENCE_
> 
> **_DISLIKES:_ ** _AVOCADO_
> 
> **_*POSSIBLE TRIGGERS:_ ** _BEING HANDED THINGS, BEING FORCED TO SOCIALIZE WITH ASSHOLES_
> 
> **_HEALTH CONCERNS:_ ** _N/A_
> 
> **_OTHER ADDITIONAL INFORMATION:_ ** _N/A_

Satisfied with himself, Tony gave a small nod to himself and clicked the ‘next’ button. It took him to another page, with a calendar in the corner.

Well, this was pretty self-explanatory. Tony didn’t even have to read the instructions written in italics at the top of the page to realize what he was supposed to do.

“JARVIS,” Tony called absentmindedly, staring at the calendar. “What day and time would be best for me to go to this … Ceremony?” He wrinkled his nose at the thought.

“It appears that you are free tomorrow at 7 AM, Thursday at approximately 6 PM until the next day, or Monday at 9 AM until 12 PM. Tomorrow, your schedule is cleared until 10 AM, courtesy of Ms. Potts.”

Tony grimaced. “Right. And which day would least anger Pepper?”

“Tomorrow at 7 AM, but you and I both know that you are not a morning person, Sir, so I’m afraid that is not possible. I would predict that Monday would be best, considering you get at least 9 hours of sleep. Which, I can also predict, will be unlikely.”

“And why not Thursday?” Tony asked, brain working furiously to figure out which date would be best. He made a point of ignoring the disapproving tone JARVIS had spoken in.

“I do recall Ms. Potts claiming she would come to see you on Thursday at 7 in the evening to discuss some business with you, Sir, and, to quote her exact words, ‘to make sure that you’ve finished all the necessary paperwork by then.’”

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose when he thought of the huge stack of paperwork on his desk in his office. It probably had a good layer of dust by now. “Right,” he muttered. “Okay, so Monday it is.” Grimacing and acting as if it was causing him physical pain, Tony typed in the date and selected the time as 10 AM, just so that he would have a good hour to mentally prepare himself for what he was now thinking of as Doomsday.

The rest was pretty clear, the next page listing expectations and rules during a Ceremony, like ‘respect other people,’ ‘you can only enter a Ceremony thrice, and after that, you must register for a Sub or Dom House,’ yadda yadda yadda.

Tony just hoped that he would meet some good, less-of-a-dickhead people so that he wouldn’t have to register for a Sub House.

When the form was entered and everything was done, Tony sat down in his chair, heaving a heavy sigh. “God, I need something to help me relax,” he muttered, rubbing his face tiredly with a hand. “I’m all done with that stuff, right, JARVIS? Don’t tell me they need my fingerprint now or some bullshit like that.”

“I believe they already have your fingerprint, Sir,” JARVIS informed in a pleasant voice. “But yes, there is nothing more you are required to do. Would you like me to put in a reminder in your schedule for your Matchmaking Ceremony?”

“Yeah, sure. Thanks, JARVIS. Oh, and order some Chinese food from that place I like, would you?”

“With pleasure, Sir.”

Tony made a noise absentmindedly in response, then shut down the screen in front of him containing the page that read, ‘ _Congratulations! You have just registered for a Matchmaking Ceremony! We hope to see you soon, and please contact us if you have any concerns!'_

Yeah, he did have concerns, like the fact that he was being forced to do this even though he didn’t want to. Whatever. It was done now anyway.

Tony had done exactly what he’d been directed to do, albeit he’d just done the bare minimum; besides, there had been no mentions of consequences of filling out a registration form with answers barely satisfactory, after all. And it wasn’t like NODS was gonna come after him for swearing in a registration form.

Tony let out another sigh and decided to work on some better, less idiotic ideas for the new StarkPhone. That was a good excuse to ignore all the paperwork he had waiting for him too. But before he could stand up and get himself properly situated, JARVIS announced, “Incoming call from Pepper Potts.”

Pepper’s face popped up on a screen. She waved, smiling. “Hey, Tony.”

“Pepper!” Tony couldn’t help the way his face split into a grin; no matter how much he complained that Doms were douchebags and that they ought to be taught a lesson about equality, he loved Pepper. He respected the way she carried herself, as a single, unmatched Domme (she hadn’t yet reached her thirtieth birthday).

Besides, Tony and Pepper, they had this … special relationship. They hadn’t exactly been in a full on Dom/sub relationship, but whenever Tony needed help, she’d been there for him. It was engraved in Tony’s mind, the way she walked ever so perfectly, her high heels clacking against the floor, the way she held her head high proudly as she walked, the way she never hesitated to reach forward and hug him, run her fingers through his hair comfortingly when he was on the brink of breaking down …

“...Tony? Tony! You haven’t been listening to a word I’ve been saying, have you?” Pepper sounded fondly exasperated.

Yup, he definitely loved her.

“Of course I have,” Tony said, giving a small shrug with a grin on his face. “Uh, about the new phone, right? Or the, um, the …” _Don’t remind her of the paperwork. Don’t remind her._ “Uh,” he finished lamely.

Pepper sighed, shaking her head affectionately. “No, you silly thing! I was wishing you happy birthday!”

“Oh.” Tony couldn’t help the way his cheeks warmed up a bit; how had he not thought of that? Pepper _never_ missed his birthdays. Never. “Of course. Uh, thank you. Hallelujah and all.”

 _Hallelujah, my ass,_ he thought spitefully.

“It’s your thirtieth, isn’t it?” she asked with a small knowing smile. Her eyes filled with mirth at the way Tony scrunched his face up in distaste at the mention of his thirtieth birthday, but contained a bit of sympathy as well. She knew Tony well enough to know that he wasn’t exactly ecstatic about his birthday.

She opened her mouth, evidently to ask him a question, but Tony cut her off, knowing what she would ask. “I scheduled a Ceremony, you don’t need to ask.” He couldn’t help the way he sounded, all bitter and resentful that he’d been forced to schedule one. “It’s next Monday.”

“Well, I’m glad I didn’t have to sit you down and force you to register,” was all she said. “Anyway, are you ready for the party tomorrow?”

“Uh, _what party?”_  Tony’s mouth went dry, and _shit!_ He’d known he’d forgotten something! He’d felt it in his gut. _Always trust your gut,_ he scolded himself.

He didn’t miss the way Pepper’s eyebrows shot up, or the way she had a why-am-I-not-surprised look on her face. “Your birthday party, Tony.” She sounded slightly amused. After all, it wasn’t the first time he’d forgotten his own birthday, never mind his party!

But, still. Everyone’s thirtieth birthday was a significant part of their lives; kind of like a teenager’s sixteenth birthday, sweet sixteen and all that stuff. Tony bit his lip a bit ruefully, wondering if there wasn’t a way he could just call quits on the entire party. “Awww, but Pep, you know I hate socializing!” He pouted.

“I know, but it’s good for Stark Industries and I know you care more about the company than you let on,” Pepper responded, repeating the words she’d said to him multiple times before. “And besides, if you don’t hold a party, it’s gonna cause more of a fuss than you want from the press. I can already imagine the headlines: _Thirtieth birthday Tony Stark — but where’s the party?”_

“Ugh, fine,” Tony complained. “You’re so mean to me.”

“Mhm, of course I am.” Pepper smiled fondly, and Tony couldn’t help smiling back. Pepper somehow always warmed his heart. “Anyway, I gotta run. Lots of paperwork to sign and all, as CEO. And you, even though you’re not CEO, have some paperwork to sign too. That’s right, I didn’t forget,” she added when Tony groaned. “Now get to it before I have to sit you down like a mother would to their five year old son and make them do their homework.”

“Fine!” Tony pouted even more, just to make a point.

Pepper laughed. “Love you, Tony.”

“Love you too, Pepps.” Tony begrudgingly smiled. “JARVIS, end call.”

The call finished and with nothing more to do — or rather, nothing more that he _wanted_ to do (there were plenty of things he had to do) — Tony grabbed a glass and a bottle of scotch, because shit, he was gonna have to prepare for his damned birthday party tomorrow, and he really, really didn’t want to.

Tony enjoyed the way the scotch burned as it slid down his throat, but only because it distracted him from the fact that he was going to be matched with a Dom very, very soon.

Ugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you thought, and if you have any ideas for this story! Ideas are always, always welcome - that's my rule ;)
> 
> Honestly, I need more Marvel friends, so come chat and become friends with me at:
> 
> Email: larrypalik123@gmail.com  
> Instagram: stardreamer_422  
> Wattpad: stardreamer_422  
> Fanfiction: Teddy1008  
> Twitter: stardreamer_422  
> Tumblr: stardreamer-422


	2. Not Like Most People

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I'm back with a new chapterrr! This is actually a very speedy update considering how horrible I am with sticking to an updating schedule. It won't always be like this (unfortunately). Life is getting kinda hectic but hopefully I'll have time to write here and there. And wow! I am absolutely shocked and ecstatic that there are already 210 subscribers for this story! That's absolutely thrilling to me, so a special shoutout to all of you who have subscribed to this story! <3 I hope Tony doesn't seem out of character throughout this chapter. I just wanted to show different aspects of his personality when he's in both public and private. Anyways, enjoy! A special thank you to my beta Mary!
> 
> Steve and Bucky will be appearing in the next chapter! Sorry it took a while, just wanted to do some character building, relationship building, and world building! <3

_ GENIUS, BILLIONAIRE, PLAYBOY, PHILANTHROPIST — TONY STARK, FINALLY AGED 30 _

_ One of the most well known billionaires and geniuses in the world, Tony Stark, has finally reached the age of 30, exactly 24 hours ago. The entire world knows what this means; at age 30, all citizens of New York must enter their name into the system and schedule a Matchmaking Ceremony with the help of the National Organization of Submissives and Dominants (NODS). It is only evident that Stark has also been directed to obey the law and schedule a Ceremony of his own. After all, money can’t buy everything. More to read about Stark’s latest predicament on page 24, section B! _

__________

Choosing his outfit for the party was easy.

He’d decided to go for a classic look; a simple look that he always reserved for parties. With the help of his public relations team and the fashion department (he’d allowed them to get involved, since this party was obviously going to be a public thing), he managed to put together a nice looking suit appropriate for his thirtieth party. He even topped it off with a glittery gold top hat, just because he wanted to.

He wasn’t exactly sure how this party would be, which was throwing him off a bit. Usually he knew exactly how to act according to the party, but his  _ own  _ birthday party? Now  _ that  _ was confusing. Was he supposed to be happy? Upset? Neutral? It was in moments like this where Tony wished he could ask JARVIS to oust the bemused feelings in his brain.

Nonetheless, whether or not he was ready, the party was starting in half an hour. He knew from experience that some guests would arrive ten minutes earlier than the expected time, while others would join the party half an hour late (they claimed that they were being ‘fashionably late,’ but Tony was pretty sure that they had just been too lazy to drag their asses out of their house on time).

So, Tony made his way downstairs by stepping into the elevator and calling out, “Party floor, JARVIS.”

If someone had to describe Stark Tower, they would say that even the word ‘huge’ was an understatement. Tony himself didn’t know how many floors there were in Stark Tower; he only used a quarter of the Tower actively, plus the gym and pool.

The elevator door opened and Tony stepped out, shoes crisply clicking on the tile floor. The party room was just as he’d left it after the last party. The cleaners had kept the place nice and tidy, without a speck of dust to be seen. Huh. Seemed like getting professional cleaners hadn’t been such a bad idea (Pepper had yelled at him to do so after she’d leaned across the counter on one of the less actively used floors and was left with dusty stains on her dress right before a business meeting).

“Well, well, aren’t you a sight to see?”

Tony whirled around, stiffening, because he wasn’t aware that he’d given anyone access to the Tower, then broke into a big grin when he saw who it was. “Pepper!” he cried out, practically skipping forward like a four year old before enveloping the Domme in a big hug (he ignored the fact that his glittery gold top hat fell to the floor). “Missed you,” he said, voice muffled as he shoved his face into her shoulder.

He shivered when Pepper ran a hand through his hair soothingly, hugging his back. “Missed you too, Tony,” she murmured, a smile in her voice. “It’s been a while since I was able to escape from those horrible meetings of mine, hasn’t it?”

“Uh-huh.” Tony finally pulled back to look at her properly. It really had been a while since he’d last seen Pepper (it had been at least two weeks, and that was a  _ long  _ time, in his opinion). “You look great,” he murmured.

Pepper was dressed beautifully. She wore a black off-the-shoulder dress and had put on sharp black high heels. Her makeup was perfect, as it always was, although she’d gone for more of a smokey look this time.

“So do you.” Smiling, she bent down and picked up the top hat with ease, then placed it on Tony’s head. “I think that this hat especially suits you.” She grinned, and set it on a crooked angle on his head. “There. Adorable.”

“Heyyy!” Tony pouted. “I am not adorable!”

Pepper laughed good-naturedly, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. “Oh, sweetheart, you are. You definitely are adorable.”

Tony made a small noise of disagreement, but let it go, instead opting to say, “Remind me how long this party goes on for again?”

To his dismay, instead of answering him, Pepper turned to properly face him and placed her hands on his shoulders. “You know, Tony, I don’t think that you getting drunk is a very good idea. Not for this specific party. You know how  _ bad _ it’ll look, since—”

“What, since I’m thirty now and people will be saying that I need a Dom to reel me back and control my every action, right down to me  _ breathing? _ ” Tony interrupted resentfully. He swallowed hard at the twisted, agitated look on Pepper’s face, and crap. He hadn’t meant to upset Pepper; Pepper was important to him and Tony had a rule that he would never hurt the few people in his life that meant dearly to him.

But Pepper, oh, sweet, gentle Pepper, didn’t get mad at him for his words. Instead of anger, there was a note of sympathy in her tone as she spoke. “Oh, Tony,” she sighed. “I know you don’t want to have this party, but—”

Tony jerked back a little, unable to stop himself before he did so. “I know,” he muttered. “I have to host it. I don’t get a choice.” He couldn’t help how miserable he sounded; he really would prefer not to have a party at all. A birthday party for his thirtieth birthday indicated to him that he was now going to be forced to treat his Dom as his first priority. And his first priority was Stark Industries and Pepper, not some Dom that he hardly even wanted to be matched with.

As if Pepper knew what was going through his mind, she reached out and tried to offer a sympathetic hug, but when Tony stiffened, she pulled back and tilted her head sadly to the side. “You know, most people would be happy to host their thirtieth birthday. It’s a milestone in our lives.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not like most people,” Tony muttered bitterly. “And the whole world knows it.”

__________

Tony was drunk.

Which was good, because that had been his intention.

Feeling the buzz of alcohol run in his system would help him cope with the misery he would feel throughout the entire party.

Sure enough, he didn’t regret it one bit, not even when cameras flashed as he laid a smooch on Pepper’s cheek after finding her sitting on an ottoman with a glass of champagne in her hand as she chatted with … someone. Tony didn’t recognize who it was. He waved it off; she was probably just some reporter with the usual invasive questions regarding his life and Stark Industries.

Tony slumped down next to Pepper, giggling when the champagne sloshed dangerously close to the rim of the glass. “Pepperrrr,” he drawled, leaning back and letting his head drop on her shoulder in a move that was supposed to be affectionate but may or may not have seemed just a tad bit flirty to others watching. “God, Pepper, you should come visit me more! I barely see you nowww.” He let a trace of a whine enter his tone, just to emphasize how upset he was at her for not coming to see him more.

Pepper exhaled. “Right.” She smiled politely at the others watching, though her spine stiffened a little at the sight of a few reporters holding cameras in their hands. “Tony, why don’t you go and talk more with people? I know there are still a few people looking for you.”

“Where’s Rhodey?” Tony asked, clumsily straightening up in favour of ignoring her question, which had sounded suspiciously more like an order than a suggestion. “Rhodey? Rhodeyyyy!” he called, then sniggered when more pairs of eyes turned to his direction. “Look, Peps.” He nudged her, and she placed the glass of champagne down on the floor so she wouldn’t spill it over the both of them. “Everyone’s staring. I’m soooo special.” He giggled. “But … but Rhodey doesn’t know I’m special, does he? Because he’s not here!”

Pepper smiled stiffly at everyone watching with interested gazes. “Tony, I think you’ve had enough to drink for one night.” She plucked the glass of scotch that had miraculously not spilled yet out of his hand and placed it next to her glass of champagne. “What do you say we call it a night and head upstairs? I’m sure the music is getting far too loud for you.”

She was right. Pepper knew how much Tony hated loud, booming music when it wasn’t music that he’d specifically requested JARVIS to play. The volume at which music often played at in his workshop was a different matter.

With a nod, because Pepper was always reasonable, and that meant that she was probably right, he should be hating this music because it wasn’t  _ his  _ music, Tony stood up abruptly with Pepper on his arm. He patted his head, suddenly confused at the empty feeling. “Where’s my hat?” he asked Pepper loudly. “Has anyone seen my hat? It’s gold, and glittery, and I swear to god, if anyone took it—”

“Mr. Stark and I will have to call it a night now,” Pepper interrupted, speaking to no one in particular. “We thank you all for coming, and we hope you enjoy the rest of your time here. A firm reminder that the party ends in an hour; anyone who stays for longer than that will have security escort them out. Thank you.”

With that, Pepper made for the doors, half dragging and half guiding Tony along with her.

“Pepperrrr,” Tony whined. “My hatttt!”

“Tony, you’re a billionaire,” Pepper answered terserly as they stepped into the elevator. “You can afford to get a thousand of those hats later.”

Tony’s face visibly fell, but he stayed silent. His ears were ringing in the sudden silence and he couldn’t help but rub at them a little, just to try to ease how odd it felt to be in dead silence after being in such a loud room.

The elevator doors opened with a ding, and Tony realized that Pepper had taken them to one of his private floors. This floor, in particular, was one of his many guest floors, Tony noted with slight confusion. Why hadn’t Pepper taken them to his personal room? She’d been in there before; hell, she’d slept there before!

“Pepperrrr,” Tony said, voice rough in his drunken state. He rubbed at his eyes a little, trying to blink away the sudden drowsiness he was feeling now that he was in peace and quiet. “Why’re we … why are we here?”

“Where else would we be, Tony?” was Pepper’s response, making Tony’s brow furrow. “Come on; let’s go to bed.” She gently grabbed his wrist and pulled him over to the bedroom.

Tony let Pepper usher him around the room. Soon enough, he was standing in the middle of the room with freshly brushed teeth, though he saved his nightly shower for tomorrow morning. He was too tired for a shower, especially since Pepper was here taking care of him. God, he loved it when she was taking care of him. It was absolutely perfect in its own special little way, no sexual tension between them, just platonic love and affection. It fulfilled him in a way that no one else ever could; and when she stayed overnight with him, god, he had the best sleep ever.

“...ony? Tony! Oh, for heaven’s sake, Tony!”

Right. Except for the fact that Pepper sounded  _ mad  _ at him.

Tony jumped when Pepper took his wrist in her hand firmly and tugged him over to the bed. He blinked when he found himself in the middle of his bed, and looked up at Pepper, who had a disapproving look on her face. “Pepper,” was all he managed to say before he had to stop. His lips and throat felt too dry.

Pepper just sighed and turned on her heel. “Wait here while I get ready for bed, Tony.” She rummaged through his drawers and pulled out a pair of pyjamas that seemed as if they’d never been worn by the owner. Which was probably true, considering Tony didn’t even remember that he owned that pair of pyjamas. Pepper tossed them to Tony, telling him, “Get dressed for bed.”

Tony held the pyjamas in his hands and watched her bustle around the room, getting ready for bed in the bathroom and then changing into something more comfortable (Tony always kept a pair of both men’s and women’s pyjamas on each guest floor. Hey, you never knew).

Pepper finally shut the door to the bathroom and grabbed a bottle of water to pour it into the mug next to it.

Tony watched her scrutinizingly for a few moments before finally speaking. “You mad, Pepps?” He held his breath and waited for her answer. See, the thing was, the entire world thought Tony Stark was an arrogant, rich man who didn’t care much for such things as manners, or respect, or even love. Which was obviously wrong, because he  _ did  _ care about those things, especially love (he just didn’t necessarily give respect to people he personally thought didn’t deserve it).

But most of all, out of all the people in the world and in his life, Pepper was the person whose word meant the world to Tony. He loved Pepper in a way that didn’t affect their friendship in a weird, inappropriate way, and she loved him back. But when she was mad at him, and seriously, absolutely mad (and that meant angry as in he’d fucked up badly, not just upset because he hadn’t done his paperwork in time), he couldn’t help but fret, because goddammit it all, she meant the world to him.

To his relief, Pepper sighed, lowered the mug from her lips, and said, “No, Tony, I’m not mad.”

“Okay.” Tony didn’t pay attention to or care how small his voice was; it wasn’t the first time he’d shown insecurity in front of Pepper.

Pepper seemed to sense how upset he was feeling, because she walked over to him, still carrying the mug of water, and tugged the pyjamas he’d still been clutching in his hands out of his grasp. She pressed the mug into his hands, prompting gently, “Drink.”

Tony obediently raised the mug to his lips and took a sip before realizing how thirsty he was and easily finishing the rest of the water. He raised his gaze back up to Pepper’s face, then swallowed hard. “You’re mad,” he decided.

“I’m not mad.” Pepper sat down beside him, placing her hand on his arm. “I’m just frustrated.”

“Because of me.” It wasn’t a question; Tony already knew the answer. He wanted to bash his head into the floor; god, Pepper had told him not to drink but he had gone and done the exact thing he hadn’t been supposed to do. He sighed and stared at the empty mug forlornly. “‘M sorry, Pepps.” God, he was such an idiot. He always stressed Pepper out and made her agitated, maybe that was why she was mad at him right now. Maybe that meant that—

“Tony, stop it.” Pepper tipped his face up with a finger under his chin. Her eyes had softened, and any traces of exasperated frustration or anger were gone, replaced with gentle kindness and empathy. “I know what you’re thinking; I’m not mad at you, I promise. Would I ever lie to you, Tony?” She tilted her head, a small smile playing at her lips.

Tony tossed the mug aside onto the bed (he would put it away later, there were more pressing matters at the moment) and dropped his head on Pepper’s shoulder, exhaling slowly. He relaxed a bit when he felt her fingers playing in his hair, drawing small little swirls and rubbing his scalp comfortingly. God, he loved Pepper so much. Even if she was mad. No, she wasn’t mad, she had  _ promised  _ him that she wasn’t, he reminded himself.

Tony squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to think about anything else except for the fact that he was just  _ here _ , with Pepper, in peace and quiet without having to stress about socializing or think about getting a Dom.

Crap, he’d forgotten about that whole thing. A small noise of disdain and discomfort escaped past his lips before he could stop it, and ugh, crap, shit, Pepper was gonna ask him about it now, and —

“Tony, what’s wrong?”

He knew it.

Pepper’s tone was full of concern as he continued to card her fingers through his hair, which, ugh, felt  _ so  _ good.

“You can tell me anything, you know.” Pepper spoke softly, as if she knew how badly loud noises or voices would affect him right now. She probably did know; she was just perfect that way.

Tony didn’t know whether it was her tone, the empathy in her eyes, her smile, or if it was just  _ Pepper  _ herself, but something made him open his mouth, and the next thing he knew, he was spilling his fears, spewing out his secrets that he would only ever trust with Pepper.

Unsurprisingly, the first thing that came out of his mouth, pathetically small and meek, was, “I don’t want a Dom.”

The glimmering empathy in Pepper’s eyes practically exploded, and she hugged him strongly, even more tightly than she had before. “Oh, Tony,” she sighed for what seemed like the twentieth time by now.

“I—I don’t … I don’t want one.” Tony made a choked sound, swallowing back a sob that was bubbling up in his throat. “I don’t … I’m  _ scared,  _ Pepper. What if I pair myself with some  _ jackass  _ who just wants my money? I don’t — I don’t  _ fucking  _ know how my life’s gonna  _ change,  _ and I just can’t—” He didn’t lift his head, feeling too upset. “What if … oh, God, what if they don’t even let me  _ be _ —”

“Shhh,” Pepper interrupted, pulling back, but only to press a kiss onto his forehead before drawing him into her arms once more. “You’re okay.”

Tony gave a small shudder. He wished he could believe Pepper’s words, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so. He just couldn’t believe the idea that someone could love him for just being Tony, not Tony  _ Stark.  _ Pepper had practically been the first one to make him realize that not everyone wanted his wealth (and his mother didn’t count because she was his mother. End of story).

“You won’t end up with a Dom who’s a complete dickhead,” Pepper told him firmly, and when he made a sound of protest and disagreement, she added, “I won’t  _ let  _ it happen. I’ll pull my scariest face on and I’ll kick their asses.”

Tony couldn’t help but a give a small smile at that. After all, Pepper’s scary face was pretty impressive, never mind her  _ scariest  _ face.

Pepper smiled back when she saw Tony relax just a tiny bit, and she ran his fingers through his hair once more before telling him seriously, “Tony, if anyone ever has the nerve to mistreat you, or use you, then you tell me, and you report it to the Submissives’ Rights Association, do you understand?”

“Yeah,” Tony said softly. “I will.”

Pepper seemed to search his face one more for anything that would make her doubt that he wasn’t telling the absolute truth before giving a small nod, having decided that Tony had been genuinely serious. “Now come here,” she murmured, pulling him forward and making him yelp and fall forward on the bed, losing his balance. She grinned. “I want to cuddle more.”

“You’re a badass Dom, Pepper,” Tony told her as he laid down beside him, leaning his head on her shoulder. God, he loved her so much. Had he mention that already? Probably. Did he care? Nope.

“You’re a pretty badass sub yourself too, Tony.” She nudged his shoulder playfully. “But don’t ever drink at a party again unless it’s not heavily significant. Which, most of your parties  _ are.  _ God knows what trouble you’ll get into when I’m not keeping constant watch on you.” She rolled her eyes good-naturedly.

Tony grinned sloppily and saluted. “Yes, Ma’am.”

Pepper rolled her eyes again and hit him on the head with a pillow. “Go to sleep, smartass.”

Tony stifled a laugh before sinking further down until he was properly situated on the bed. Pepper followed his lead and she rolled over to face him. Smiling, she stroked his hair with a gentle hand, and Tony closed his eyes in comfort.

“Go to sleep,” she murmured. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“M’kay.” Tony exhaled slowly, feeling the tension leave his body for the first time that day. “Love you, Pepps.”

“Love you too, Tony.”

Tony let himself enjoy the calming sensation of Pepper’s fingers scratching lightly at his scalp, playing with his hair, rubbing gently and soothingly. His last thought before he fell asleep was whether or not he would ever get to feel this at ease again once he got matched with a Dom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you thought, and if you have any ideas for this story! Ideas are always, always welcome - that's my rule ;)
> 
> Honestly, I need more Marvel friends, so come chat and become friends with me at:
> 
> Email: larrypalik123@gmail.com  
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> Tumblr: stardreamer-422


	3. The Ceremony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, it has been forever since I last posted. I'm really sorry about that; I'll do my best to post more often. I think watching Endgame really motivated me to write this fic again, so you can thank Endgame for that, haha. I would really appreciate ideas; they keep me motivated! So let me know in the comments if you have any suggestions! :) So far, nothing much has happened yet, but I promise it'll be worth the wait. So hang in there. ;)
> 
> Enjoy!

Tony was freaking out in the calmest manner possible.

He was currently ripping into an entire roasted chicken with his bare hands. His fingers were coated with a good layer of BBQ sauce, but did he give a shit? No, not really.

Not in his current mental state. 

He hadn’t realized how thankful he was for JARVIS until the AI announced, “Incoming call from Pepper Potts,” and all he had to say was, “Pick up the call, JARVIS,” instead of having to actually physically pick it up himself. Because then he would have to clean the BBQ sauce from his hands before touching anything, and he was honestly far too lazy for that.

Pepper’s face appeared in front of him, and through a mouthful of chicken, he garbled out, “Hey, Pepper. What’s up?”

The disapproval on her face was as plain as the plain greek yogurt JARVIS had ordered for him last week (he had thrown it out — seriously, when the label said  _ ‘Plain Greek Yogurt,’  _ he hadn’t expected it to be  _ that  _ plain). “Tony,” she said, practically radiating displeasure with just one little word. 

“Mm?” Tony purposely sucked on his sauce-covered thumb to annoy her even more, just because he could. He silently snickered at the way Pepper’s face painfully contorted in irritation at his behaviour. God, he was such a dick, wasn’t he?

“Tony, you have your Ceremony in—” she glanced upwards, probably to look at a clock— “approximately forty minutes. Why are you devouring an entire chicken when you should be getting ready? God, don’t make me come over there.”

Tony straightened at the threat, knowing that it wasn’t an empty one. After all, Pepper was the type of person to fucking hop on a private jet and fly all the way across the world if someone told her she couldn’t do exactly that (Tony had learned the hard way). 

“Well?” Pepper raised an eyebrow. “You and I both know that you can’t just skip out on this Ceremony, no matter how bad your habit of coming late—or just not at all—to meetings is.”

Tony just popped a piece of chicken into his mouth and said, “You know, this is a really good chicken. You should come join me—which, please don’t. It’s all mine. JARVIS, where did we order this from?”

“The chicken place down the street across from the shopping mall, Sir,” JARVIS responded in a pleasant tone, though it was very clear that he, like Pepper, was displeased at the way Tony was pretending not to care about his Ceremony when he very much in fact did. “I believe it’s called ‘Chicken, Chicken’ and was originally founded in 1964 until—”

“Yeah, alright, sounds legitimate.” Tony waved a hand in the air, cutting JARVIS off. “Although the name could use a little work. Maybe ‘La Roasted Poulet?’ Ooh la la, sounds beautiful, doesn’t it? Or how about ‘Tu Pollo?’”

“Tony.” Pepper rolled her eyes exasperatedly. “Stop pretending that you don’t care about your future and actually  _ think  _ for once in your life.”

Tony stiffened, a little hurt by Pepper’s words. He  _ did  _ think! He thought all the time! Without him, the world would be boring. Who would invent the most popular phones on an international scale in the world? With a scowl, he bit out, “I do care. It’s just that my meal is distracting me at the moment.”

Pepper sighed. “Tony, please.” Her tone softened, as if she knew that he’d been a little hurt by her words. She probably did know, because she was Pepper and Pepper always knew. “Alright, tell me this. What are you going to wear? Do you need me to order you something?” She raised an eyebrow, half joking, half serious. “Please don’t go to the Ceremony wearing what you’re wearing right now.”

“I’m perfectly fine with my current clothes, thank you very much,” Tony muttered, almost sulkily. His clothes were fine! She didn’t have to insult them like that! 

“Well, you won’t be if you keep rubbing your greasy hands all over your clothes like the way you are now.”

“What do you mean?” Tony looked down at his hands, and—oh. He had been practically scrubbing his sauce-covered hands on his pants. He scrunched up his face in distaste at how sticky the cloth felt now. “Ah.”

“Yeah, ah.” Pepper sounded extremely disapproving, causing Tony to puff up, bristling defensively. “Come on, Tones. You need to get your crap together. You’re running out of time and you won’t always—” She stopped speaking briskly, head snapping back as she called back to someone, “Yes, I’m aware!” She turned her full attention back to Tony, who was now quietly examining nothing in particular. “I need to go. Fill me in on how it goes, okay?”

Tony nodded quietly, feeling a little hollow at her words. She hadn’t been particularly harsh, and they both knew that. It was just that what Pepper had said was true—he was running out of time.

“Hey.” Pepper’s face had visibly softened with pity and empathy. “It’s gonna go great, okay? Just try your best.”

“Alright,” Tony said softly, and with that, the call ended. With a sigh, Tony looked down at the now ravaged chicken. God, he really did need to get his shit together. Clearing his throat, Tony looked up at the ceiling, thinking hard before he said, “JARVIS, form of attire for this occasion?”

“I don’t believe there are dress codes placed on these Ceremonies, Sir.”

Tony sighed and stood up, going around the counter to reach the sink. The water automatically turned on as he placed his hands under the nozzle, and he washed all of the sauce and grease away. He hadn’t realized how good it felt to get rid of the stickiness on his fingers. It was almost like he was washing away the reminder that he was being dumb and stubborn about this whole Ceremony.

“Well, how should I dress, then, JARVIS?” Tony pulled his hands away and the water ceased running. Wiping his hands clean with a towel, Tony worried at his bottom lip, lost in thought.

One of the main reasons he was feeling wishy-washy about the Ceremony was because he thought—no, he  _ knew _ —that no Dom would want him. Doms always went for the younger ones; everyone knew that. Everyone also knew that Tony had reached the age of thirty now. Which was… well, not that young. 

The only reason someone would ever want him would be for his money.

Tony would rather shove down that whole chicken down his throat in one go and face the possibility of majorly choking on it rather than let some haughty, conceited Dom inherit all the money for himself.

_ Yet another reason to not go to this dumb thing, _ he grumbled, even as he headed away from the kitchen to check his wardrobe. He rummaged through it for a bit, trying to decide what would be best to wear. He was tempted to call up everyone that had a decent fashion sense, but then decided fuck it, since when was Tony Stark one to get nervous over little things like this?

He stood up, tossed on a casual, tight black long-sleeve shirt and black jeans. He made sure to grab his favourite pair of tinted sunglasses before stepping out of the building. He would have dressed in a nice, neat suit, but he didn’t want to draw attention to himself. He knew it would be bad enough when people recognized him, but wearing a suit? That would make him stand out like a big bad wolf in a herd of sheep.

He checked his watch and saw that he now had half an hour to get there on time. He wasn’t worried, though. He would manage; he was Tony Stark, not Ben the hobo who lived on the streets two blocks down from Stark Tower. 

And manage he did, because before Tony knew it, he was entering the gates of the fancy area where the Ceremony was meant to be held. Tony wasn’t sure whether he should be happy or not over the fact that he’d actually arrived on time. When he saw the large crowd milling around, he felt sick. God, he hated this.

He went straight to the front desk, waited in line for approximately five minutes, ignoring the slight glances that passerbys shot him, and how their eyes widened when they noticed who it was. Jesus Christ; they were acting like he was God or something. He refrained from rolling his eyes.

When he reached the front of the line and was beckoned by one of the workers, he made his way forward until he was standing across from her, the only thing separating them the mahogany wooden table. 

“Name?” she asked, and Tony knew she was asking out of sheer politeness and professionalism. Her hands made her way to the keyboard of the laptop before he even opened his mouth.

Still, just to humour her, he responded, “Anthony Stark.”

She finished typing in his name before he finished, and handed him a name tag. It read:  _ Hello, my name is: _______ _

He was handed a sharpie, and he etched onto the line,  _ ‘You Know Who I Am.’  _ He pinned it to his shirt, and looked up to see the Ceremony worker insert a printed chip into a white bracelet before handing it to him. 

“This bracelet allows you to exchange your information with others you may be interested in. Just press this button right here and hold it above theirs. You have a white bracelet because your biological designation is submissive. Dominants will have black bracelets. It is currently 9:06 AM. The Ceremony will run until 2 PM sharp. You may leave before 2 PM. Your actions past 2 PM with your possible candidates will not be covered by NODS. We will not…”

And on and on she went. 

Tony drowned her out, focusing on how her honey-blonde hair swirled into curls at the ends instead. He noticed for the first time that her name was Chloe, and thought, poor Chloe. She had such a boring, tedious job. No wonder she sounded dead inside.

“Do you understand, Mr. Stark?”

“Yep, sounds good.” He gave her a salute, and her lips twitched before she purposely looked away from him and called up the next person. 

Tony took a deep breath and forced himself to walk into the crowd of people that were casually mingling. He noticed that some had glasses of ice water in their hands, and was pleased to note that all beverages were non-alcoholic. He shuddered at the endless possible consequences that would be caused by drunk people gathered in a large crowd.

All around him, there were voices, some low, some high. They created a buzzing in his ears, and Tony pulled his sleeve down over the bracelet that was fastened over his wrist, feeling strangely insecure. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do. How was he supposed to act, approach other people? 

Tony was good at pushing people away indifferently, not trying to attract them.

He knew he had to suck it up though. He had to find a Dom today to make his life easier and not end up in a goddamn Sub House. Disgusting.

Tony ended up heading for the refreshment table. He poured himself some water from a large pitcher and picked up a small plate containing crackers accompanied by different kinds of cheese. God, he wanted a cheeseburger now.

Tony jumped a little when someone brushed by him, unintentionally touching shoulders. The man turned around, an apologetic look on his face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… hey, you’re Stark!” He made to hold out his hand for Tony to shake until he realized that Tony’s hands were occupied. “I’m Clint Barton.”

Tony silently took note of the white bracelet and couldn’t help but feel a little relieved. He wasn’t sure how he’d react if he would have had to interact with a Dom within five minutes of being at the Ceremony. “Uh, yeah, hi.”

“I wouldn’t try those crackers if I were you; the cheese is super stale.” Clint took the plate out of his hand and placed it back on the table, then pushed a plate of what looked like ham and cheese sandwiched between cucumber slices. “This is much better.”

“Uh, thanks.” Tony hesitantly took one of the… cucumber sandwiches by its toothpick and popped it into his mouth. He was surprised to find that the flavours worked well together, and Clint was watching his reaction with a proud look on his face.

“So, uh… you enjoying yourself so far?” Clint asked awkwardly, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Tony just shrugged, chewing slower to stall in answering. He swallowed, then admitted, “Not the best. I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t forced to.”

“Ah, yeah, I get that. This is actually my second Ceremony.” Clint helped himself to what looked like mini-bruschetta. “Didn’t end up finding anyone who felt right at my first one. It takes time; too bad we only get three shots at it. But most people are nice; we’re all here for the same reason, anyway.”

“Mm,” Tony hummed absent-mindedly.

There was a small silence between them, then Clint said, “Well, I guess I’d better get going. There’s a time limit and all. Good luck, uh, Tony.”

“Thanks, Clint.” Tony watched the man scurry away before bumping into someone whose nametag read:  _ Hello, my name is Phil C. _

He watched as the two men hit it off immediately, Clint talking animatedly while Phil watched on with a fond look on his face. 

God, Tony was screwed. He didn’t have the people skills that Clint had, he was older than a good majority of the people here, and he was just… Tony. He was too Tony, and that was the problem.

Tony shoved the last cucumber sandwich into his mouth, stacked his now empty plate on top of the other finished ones, and set his glass down before deciding to give this a proper shot.

Tony walked through the large crowd of people, feeling a few gazes burning into him. Feeling self-conscious, he rubbed the back of his neck and elbowed someone in the process. “Shit. Sorry,” he said, turning around.

“Oh, no, don’t worry about it.”

And that was that; the tall man took one look at Tony before quickly heading towards a younger, evidently more attractive man that stood not too far away.

It hurt Tony more than it probably should’ve. After all, he’d been expecting it.

A hand clasped his shoulder, and Tony tensed and spun around. He was greeted with the sight of a man who had neatly styled light brown hair and wore bold-framed glasses. He was dressed in a fancy three-piece suit.

“Hey, man, aren’t you a little too old to be here?” 

Tony made a show of ignoring the person who’d spoken, rolling his eyes as he remembered Clint’s words— _ most people are nice.  _ Well, it appeared that most people  _ weren’t  _ nice. At least not to him.

“I feel bad for him,” a woman whispered to another, both of them staring unabashedly at Tony a few feet away.

“It must be terrible having to be here at such an old age, I can’t imagine…”

Tony didn’t hear any more of the two women’s conversation, his attention grabbed by the next dickhead that spoke to him.

“Hey, Stark. I’m Justin Hammer. I promise, I’ll give you anything if you just take me on as your Dom—”

Tony ignored him, making sure to keep an impassive look on his face. He had dealt with nosy, rude, annoying people before; it was a guaranteed experience for someone with his status. However, unexpectedly, Tony felt a hand clasp his shoulder and pull him back, and something in him snapped.

“Eat shit,” he snarled, cutting the other man off before he could even speak. He could hear his blood roaring in his ears, unable to take any more of this bullshit. He felt unwelcome, ostracized. He didn’t want to be here.

Hammer spluttered, then pointed a finger threateningly at his face and sneered, “Don’t you speak to a Dom like that, you little—”

He never ended up finishing, for Tony punched him right in his face. His fist made a satisfying cracking sound as it hit Hammer’s nose.

There were exclaims of surprise and shock as Hammer cradled his bloody nose with Tony rearing for a fight in front of him.

“Get your hands off of me!” Tony spat when two men rushed forward and grabbed him by the shoulders. “Don’t touch me! Stop!” He was easily dragged back, regardless of the fact that he was kicking and punching in vain. He faintly heard a woman screaming for security, and sneered. Of course, security was never there when needed.

“He said stop, so stop touching him!”

A new voice broke out, and Tony was surprised to find himself face-planting the ground as the two men released him. Tony scrambled so that he was on his bum, hands placed behind him defensively, ready to struggle away if needed. 

Instead, he was met with the sight of a man with long, dark brown hair that cascaded down to his shoulders. He had a chiseled face, stubble on his chin, and his blue eyes glinted in the sun.

Tony jumped when he heard a commotion behind him, and saw Hammer and the two other men being dragged away by security. He scoffed when security didn’t bother to take him away. He knew they hadn’t bothered because he was a pathetic, small, helpless little sub. 

There were whispers, and Tony sighed, feeling the telltale ache that signified an impending headache. He already knew there would be rumours of how he’d gotten into a brawl at his Ceremony, and he knew people would try to change it up so extremely that it would sound as if he’d started a fucking riot, not punched someone in the face for touching him without permission. 

Tony was done. He didn’t care about this anymore; at least not right now. He would book another Ceremony when he got home; he was still allowed to attend two more before being forced to choose his Dom. He was about to make his way to the front gates when the same voice who’d defended him spoke up once more.

“Hey. You alright?”

Tony turned around, jaw clenched, and gave a quick, curt nod. 

The man regarded him with a steady look before stepping forward and outstretching a hand. “I’m Bucky.”

Tony hesitated, then figured that being nice back was the least he could do before leaving. So, he grabbed Bucky’s hand firmly and shook it, though he made sure to keep his sleeve pulled over most of his hand so that it would get scanned without him knowing. “Tony. But you know that, obviously.”

Bucky just gave him a small smile, lips pressed together. It almost looked sympathetic, but thankfully not pitiful. Tony probably would’ve had to punch someone again for the second time that day if Bucky made it clear that he pitied him.

“Guess you’re not having the best time here, huh?” Bucky said with a small, humourless laugh.

Tony grimaced. “Yeah, not really.” He rubbed the back of his neck, fidgeting a little. “I was actually just about to leave; couldn’t take it anymore.”

“Mm, I get that. This is my second time here; it’s a little overwhelming.” Bucky’s gaze slid past Tony and focused on something else in the distance. “My partner and I are here looking for a sub of our own right now, actually.”

Tony just nodded, a little unsure on how to continue the conversation. Fortunately—or maybe unfortunately; Tony wasn’t sure yet—a voice interrupted them.

“Buck, when I asked you to go get us some water, I wasn’t exactly picturing this.” 

Tony turned around and locked gazes with piercing blue eyes staring right back at him. The man was tall and his body was well-built. Tony almost— _ almost _ —wanted to reach out and touch his abs, which could faintly be seen through the tight shirt he was wearing. He was clean-shaven, and his golden hair gleamed in the sun. 

The man seemed to notice Tony staring, because he held out his hand and said, “Pleasure to meet you. I’m Steve. ”

Tony introduced himself, shaking Steve’s hand politely. He wasn’t going to be a dick when people were actually being nice to him for once, no matter how much he wanted to leave. 

Steve eyed his disheveled appearance and commented, “Not too much luck, huh?”

Tony just shrugged. “Just wanna get home at this point. Hasn’t been the best day.” He scrunched up his face, thinking of the amount of paperwork that awaited him back at the Tower.

Steve and Bucky shot each other a glance, the moment flitting between them so quickly that Tony almost missed it. They seemed to communicate silently in the span of about half a second, and surely enough, Bucky spoke up. “Maybe we could make it better for you.”

Tony gave a small, humourless laugh at that and gave a shake of his head. 

“We could go out for some coffee,” Steve offered. “Just us three men encouraging a new blooming friendship between us. Nothing more.”

And, well, that hit Tony right in the face. Friendship. What a foreign concept. Tony hesitated, because really, what was the harm in doing so? It wasn’t like he had much to lose at this point anyway. There was just one small problem, he thought slightly regretfully. “I would, gentlemen, but I have a meeting at noon and I can’t afford to miss it.”

Tony saw a flash of emotion in Steve’s eyes, but surely it couldn’t be disappointment, could it? They had just met; there was no way Steve was despondent over the fact that Tony couldn’t have some coffee time with them. Then, Tony realized, right, it must be his money. He should’ve known; people always tried to take him out in public places in an effort to appeal their self-worth and value to him. He tightened his jaw and pushed away the nagging feeling that Steve and Bucky were somehow regretful that Tony couldn’t spend time with them.

“Oh, well, that’s fine,” Steve responded lightly, a fake cheeriness to his tone. 

A small silence fell between them, and then out of the blue, Bucky asked, “Bracelets?” and held his wrist out.

Tony stared at the strangely daunting black bracelet around Bucky’s wrist, seeing Steve shoot Bucky a look in his peripheral vision. “I, uh… I dunno…” he said, a bit wary.

“I won’t force you to, but it would be great if we managed to have a way to contact each other so we can meet up some other time. Besides, if things go well, it’ll save us all the time of booking these tedious Ceremonies,” Bucky said. When he received no response, he hesitated, seeming a bit awkward now. “You, uh… you don’t have to. I just figured—”

“No, it’s fine. Yeah, sure, why not?” Tony interrupted, and voluntarily held out his own wrist for the first time that day. He hovered it over Bucky’s, remembering what the NADS worker had told him to do, and did the same for Steve. He stood still, a little tense, watching as Steve and Bucky scanned his own bracelet. 

There wasn’t much he could lose, he reminded himself once more. Besides, Bucky had a point—spending some time with the two Doms would save him from attending one of these stupid things again. Besides, Tony really didn’t want to end up going to a Sub House. He would run some background checks on the two men, make sure they weren’t up to anything suspicious, and consider it.  _ NADS should be happy I’m even giving this a thought, _ he thought wryly. 

Tony flushed when he realized that the document he’d filled out for the Ceremony was displayed in a holographic manner, projected from Steve and Bucky’s bracelets. He felt his face warm as he noted both Doms’ facial expressions as they read Tony’s answers. They had strangely good poker-faces.

Then, to his surprise, Bucky let out a snort of amusement, turned off his holographic screen, and said, “Well, we probably shouldn’t keep you busy. I’m sure you should be on your way now.”

Tony checked his watch and grimaced. Yep, he definitely had to leave now. “Yeah, uh, thanks… for everything.” He gestured to nothing in particular, and stuck his hands in his pockets. “My number should be included with the information in your bracelets; I know they send that kind of information to whoever’s bracelets you scan. So, um, text me.”

Then, he turned around and fled.

He hated his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you thought, and if you have any ideas for this story! Ideas are always, always welcome - that's my rule ;)
> 
> Honestly, I need more Marvel friends, so come chat and become friends with me at:
> 
> Email: larrypalik123@gmail.com  
> Instagram: stardreamer_422  
> Wattpad: stardreamer_422  
> Fanfiction: Teddy1008  
> Twitter: stardreamer_422  
> Tumblr: stardreamer-422


	4. The Totally-Not-a-Date Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, readers! Wow, look at that, I actually didn't take an eternity to update! Must've been all the nice comments that you all left me last chapter! :P
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter! There's a lot more Steve/Bucky/Tony interaction happening, and it'll only get better from here :) Let me know what you thought, and ideas are always welcome!

Tony was in the middle of a meeting when his phone let out a short trill. He grimaced when several pairs of eyes flashed over to him. He quickly switched his phone to vibration and glanced at it under the table. The meeting was boring anyway.

Tony frowned when he noted that it was an unknown number who had texted him—two, actually. Ah. Right. Of course, it was them. How could he have forgotten?

It was a day after the terrible, never-to-be-spoken-of-again-Ceremony. Tony had completely forgotten about properly checking out Steve and Bucky’s files. He’d had JARVIS run a background check once he got the chance, but he had crashed in bed before he could take a good look at it.

He supposed it would have to wait until after the meeting. For now, he focused his attention on the text he’d received.

> **_Unknown Number:_ ** _Hey, Tony. It’s Steve._

Tony added both Doms’ numbers to his contacts so that he wouldn’t get confused between them.

> **_Bucky:_ ** _And Bucky._
> 
> **_Tony:_ ** _Hey._
> 
> **_Steve:_** _Is this a bad time?_

Yes, it was, judging from the glare Pepper shot him when she noticed him on his phone. Jesus, she was like a mom.

> **_Tony:_ ** _Not at all. You’re actually saving me, preventing me from losing more brain cells with each passing second this idiot from H.R. Industries talks._
> 
> **_Steve:_ ** _Well, if you’re free to talk, then I wanted to discuss when and where we would meet._

Tony grimaced at the reminder. He would much rather prefer to not meet or do anything with Doms, but when did he ever get what he want? He sighed.

> **_Tony:_ ** _Yeah, I was actually thinking about that._
> 
> **_Bucky:_ ** _Really?_
> 
> **_Tony:_ ** _Yeah, of course._

Just… not in the way the two Doms were thinking, Tony figured dryly. The only reason the idea of going on a date—no, not a date; this was most definitely _not_ a date—had been in his head was because he’d been trying to find a way out of it.

> **_Tony:_ ** _I was actually gonna invite you two over to my Tower. You know, figured it’s the best way to avoid the public meltdown over our meeting._

He was careful not to use the word ‘date’ or anything that would insinuate one.

> **_Steve:_ ** _As long as that’s alright with you. We wouldn’t want to intrude._

Tony rolled his eyes. _Oh, please,_ he thought, _you probably don’t even care._

> **_Tony:_ ** _Nope, not an intrusion. Feel free to come over at 2 o’clock on Saturday. I’ll text the address in a bit._
> 
> **_Steve:_ ** _2 on Saturday?_

Tony couldn’t hide the smirk that appeared on his face quickly enough, so he let out a cough in a pathetic attempt to hide it. Judging from the rather displeased look on Pepper’s face, he’d failed to make it believable.

He knew that most of the times, Doms chose the time and place for the first da—no, _meeting._ The first _meeting._ Tony had purposely decided on choosing the place and time, just to show Steve and Bucky that he wasn’t going to drop to his knees just because Bucky’d saved him from a couple of punches. Besides, Tony really did prefer meeting people in his own territory, where no curious, prying eyes could see what he was doing. Hence, the Tower. If Steve and Bucky were displeased by that, they could kindly fuck off.

> **_Steve:_ ** _Sounds good. We’ll be there._

Tony didn’t bother responding, just smirked, pleased, and leaned back in his chair.

__________

Pepper may or may not be immensely upset with him.

Tony was sitting in his workshop, fiddling with a wrench in his hands, while Pepper went on and on, telling him off for not behaving maturely and appropriately throughout the meeting. Five days had passed since the meeting, and the only reason Tony had been caught by Pepper was because he’d let his guard down—he’d made sure to keep himself immensely busy in order to have a valid reason to avoid the scolding that was sure to come.

“One meeting, Tony! It was just one! The first meeting you attended in three months!” Pepper was saying, an exasperated look on her face. “It’s about _your_ company, Tony. Yeah, the one that you still have responsibilities for, even if you’re not CEO.”

“Pep—” he tried to interrupt.

“Honestly, Tony, I don’t understand why it’s so hard for you to just _be good.”_

Tony felt a pang in his heart at that, and he swallowed hard, remaining quiet. Pepper seemed to realize the weight of the words she’d spoken and she, too, fell quiet.

After a few seconds, Pepper just sighed and said, “Tony, just, please, get the paperwork done by the end of this week? It’s _important.”_

“Okay, Pep,” Tony said softly, giving in. “I’ll make sure JARVIS reminds me.”

“Thank you.” Pepper pressed her lips tightly together, kissed his cheek, ran a hand through his hair, then exited the workshop.

Tony stared bleakly at the wrench in his hands.

_I don’t understand why it’s so hard for you to just be good._

Tony stood up, massaging his stiff back muscles. He was always hunched over; it was no surprise that his muscles hated him. He put the wrench down in the toolbox with a clatter and regarded his unfinished Starkphone project. He should work on it, make it even better than it already was. No, he should work on the paperwork. That would make Pepper pleased.

_I don’t understand why it’s so hard for you to just be good._

“AC/DC, JARVIS. And make it loud,” he said wearily, heading for the table full of blueprints and plans.

“Sir, might I remind you that Mr. Rogers and Mr. Barnes are coming over in two hours?”

Tony blinked. “What?” He frowned. “Pep would’ve told me if I had a meeting.”

“Mr. Rogers and Mr. Barnes aren’t visiting for the purpose of a business negotiation, Sir,” JARVIS responded, and Tony swore he could hear a note of exasperation in the AI’s tone. Was that even possible? “They are, as I recall, the two Doms you—”

“Right.” Tony grimaced. “I should probably get ready, I guess. Can’t have myself looking like shit, now can I?”

“Without doubt, Sir,” JARVIS responded dryly.

Tony rolled his eyes at the AI’s sass and just directed to be taken to his private floor, where he could take a shower and try to tame the unruly mess of hair on both his head and face.

Tony had made sure to carry out the background checks on the two Doms. He’d been satisfied to find that they had no skeletons in the closet. Call him paranoid, but he’d much rather know whether or not he was meeting with people with rather malicious intentions.

_I don’t understand why it’s so hard for you to just be good._

Tony flinched when the words echoed once more in his head.

Goddammit.

Why _was_ it so hard for him to be good, to actually be desirable to others? Because he was him, and that was the problem, Tony thought to himself wryly.

As he hopped in the shower, he pursed his lips grimly. Steve and Bucky seemed to be interested in him. It was only a matter of time before Tony could find out whether or not they were interested in Tony the submissive or Tony the billionaire.

He could give them what they wanted, Tony figured, pumping shampoo into his hand. If Steve and Bucky were truly interested in who he was, behind all of the press and public, then he would be himself. Maybe then, they wouldn’t want him. Tony smirked, already concocting an evil plan.

Oh, this would be fun.

__________

“Sir, Mr. Rogers and Mr. Barnes have arrived at the Tower. Would you like me to allow them up?”

Tony frowned, fiddling a little bit with the collar of the shirt he was wearing. Then, he said, “Send them up to the guest floor. Tell them I’ll meet them there.”

“With pleasure, Sir.”

Tony exhaled and took in his appearance one more time in the mirror. Feeling rather satisfied with what he saw, he headed for the elevator.

When the doors of the elevator slid open, Tony was greeted with the sight of both Doms standing there awkwardly, looking around the guest room with something like admiration in their eyes.

They turned around when they heard the elevator doors slide shut, and Steve immediately said, “Tony, it’s amazing here.”

“I know,” Tony said simply. He strode over to the bar and poured himself a glass of ice water. Taking a sip, he said, “Make yourself at home.”

“Thank you.”

When there was a small silence, Tony appraised both Doms over the rim of his glass, then said, “I got us a chef for dinner; he’ll be making seafood dishes for us—one of my favourite foods.” He knew that the food would be amazing as always; Giovanni’s always was. He also knew that Steve was mildly allergic to seafood.

Tony caught a flash of a frown on Steve’s face, but he didn’t say anything—yet. He was nearly convinced that Steve wouldn’t protest against it, when Bucky suddenly spoke, opening his mouth for the first time that day, catching Tony off guard.

“Stevie’s allergic.”

Tony just raised an eyebrow.

There was a swift flash of disapproval on Bucky’s face. “You knew that, didn’t you?”

Tony just turned around, placing the glass down on the counter.

Now, it looked like Steve was going to say something—scold Tony, maybe? But to Tony’s surprise, he didn’t. Instead, he said, “It’s alright, I’m not that hungry anyways.” Steve tried to ease the awkwardness and tension in the room.

Tony worked his jaw, leaning forward and massaging his forehead with his hand. God, Pepper would have his head if she found out what he was trying to do. Maybe he should just—

“Sir, the servers have arrived with the food. Shall I let them in?”

The flash of glee that Tony felt at seeing Steve and Bucky startle and look towards the ceiling made up for considering changing the menu.

Steve gaped and pointed at the ceiling. “Did that… did… what?”

Tony didn’t bother hiding his grin. “JARVIS, my AI.” He didn’t bother elaborating, just said, “Let ‘em in, JARVIS.”

The elevator doors slid open and five servers, all dressed immaculately and neatly in their uniforms, placed the dishes on the large dining table. Then, they left, already knowing that Tony would get JARVIS to automatically pay the money.

When the food was situated, Tony gestured silently for Steve and Bucky to take a seat at the large table. (Steve made sure to sit a good distance from the food). Tony sat down across from them and was taken by surprise when Steve suddenly slid over a dense package of papers. When he took it in his hands, he saw that it read _‘Steve Rogers’ Contract’_ at the top. Bucky slid over one that was similar as well.

Tony realized that the two Doms were staring at him expectantly, and he grimaced. _Shit._ He’d gotten so caught up that he’d completely forgotten that it was a fucking social custom to exchange contracts at the first meeting.

“You forgot yours, didn’t you.” It wasn’t a question; Bucky’s tone was flat.

_Shit. Think fast, Tony._

Tony rubbed the back of his neck and said, “No, no, of course not, it’s… yeah. It’s no biggie though, I’ll get JARVIS to pull up my old one real quick, and he knows what I like and don’t like so—”

“No, don’t,” Steve interrupted firmly.

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“We want you to take your time with it. Just email it to us.”

Tony stared at Steve for a few seconds, holding his stare just enough for it to come off as challenging, then said, “Dig in. Except for you, Stevie-O.”

He had to admit, he did feel a bit bad that Steve was just sitting there while Bucky and Tony tentatively ate in silence. (It had only been amusing for the first few minutes). So, he chose to excuse himself from the table, headed to the bathroom, and directed JARVIS to order a large pizza.

Tony also chose to ignore Steve’s repeated expressions of gratitude when the pizza arrived.

He stood up, unable to stand the fact that he had to be dealing with _this_ right now instead of labouring away in the workshop (which he would much rather prefer, thank you very much), and asked, “Want a drink?”

“Sure thing.”

Tony headed to the bar, pulling out three wine glasses. He pulled out a glass of wine—one of his fancy ones, too—and then filled one of the glasses with it. Sparkling water was poured into the other two.

When Tony brought out the three glasses, he gleefully noted the look of slight confusion and irritation that was etched on Steve’s face. He also took the time to note the flash of slight amusement that flashed over Bucky’s face when he took a sip from his wine. However, surprisingly enough, it was Bucky who spoke up about this positively _scandalous_ issue first.

“You know, normally, the Dom is served wine and the sub gets whatever the Dom orders for them,” Bucky commented in a casual tone.

“Well, I’m not a normal sub,” Tony stated simply. “Besides, it really is unsafe to be intoxicated or under the influence during a scene. Didn’t you know that? Maybe you didn’t attend school enough, Bucky bear, huh?”

“This isn’t a scene.” All traces of amusement were gone from Bucky’s face and tone.

“No, but it’s still a negotiation.”

Bucky glared.

Tony smirked.

He was getting under their nerves, he knew. He knew that he was being a little bitch and Steve and Bucky probably didn’t deserve all of this rude behaviour he was giving them, but still. They wanted this date, and he was making it happen. That should be enough for them, really.

He sipped his wine once more, a tad bit more loud than necessary, and put his feet up on the unoccupied chair across from him. He saw the flash of disapproval on Steve’s face, and, well, he definitely knew where _that_ came from. But this was his Tower, his _home,_ and he wasn’t about to just suddenly change his behaviour to try to accommodate to Steve and Bucky’s perceptions of what was appropriate behaviour for subs.

He flung an arm behind him dramatically, raised his glass, and said, “Well, this is a lovely not-a-date date, isn’t it, gentlemen?”

He got two grunts in response.

Ha. Success.

Tony smirked behind his drink. This date was going exactly the way he’d wanted it to.

__________

 

> **_Bucky:_ ** _Tony, did you also get the email?_
> 
> **_Tony:_ ** _You mean the disgustingly long email about following proper protocol when finding possible candidates? And the other one about registering my Dom(s) as soon as possible, and the fact that they listed you two in possible candidates for me? Yeah. NODS really needs to relax; if we want to go as slow as a snail, we’re going to goddamn go that slow._
> 
> **_Bucky:_ ** _Couldn’t agree more._
> 
> **_Steve:_ ** _I suppose it’s a matter of just doing they’re jobs, as much as we don’t like it._
> 
> **_Tony:_ ** _You used the wrong ‘their,’ you fucking uncultured swine._
> 
> **_Steve:_ ** _Language._

__________

 

> **_Tony:_ ** _Watch this video. You won’t regret it._
> 
> **_Bucky:_ ** _TONY!_
> 
> **_Steve:_ ** _Tony. We are in PUBLIC. You just sent us PORN in PUBLIC. There’s a reason it’s called NSFW._

__________

 

> **_Steve:_ ** _Red tie or navy tie?_
> 
> **_Tony:_ ** _Depends on the suit._
> 
> **_Bucky:_ ** _I keep telling him to wear the navy one with the suit he’s wearing, but he’s not listening. Knock some sense into him, Tony._
> 
> **_Tony:_ ** _Gladly._
> 
> **_Steve:_ ** _Rude._
> 
> **_Tony:_ ** _Oh, please. You love me._

__________

Tony hid the grin that flashed across his face when his phone buzzed, alerting him of a text. Sure enough, it was who he’d anticipated.

 

> **_Steve:_** _Coffee today at 3?_
> 
> **_Tony:_ ** _Text the address._
> 
> **_Steve:_ ** _Will do._
> 
> **_Steve:_ ** _Bring your contract._

Tony ignored him.

And that was how Tony found himself at a rather secluded, fairly empty cafe five hours later, staring down at his far too expensive cup of coffee.

When the bells attached to the top of the door jingled, signalling someone’s entry, Tony looked up. He was met with the sight of Bucky and Steve—ah, his two beloved Doms that were just oh so fun to taunt. Still, Tony had to admit, they both looked absolutely _mouthwatering._

Bucky was dressed in a white button-up shirt and he had left the top button left undone. It was tucked neatly into his black trousers. He wore a necklace with a pendant that Tony didn’t recognize. Steve, on the other hand, was wearing jeans, a tight white t-shirt, and a black bomber jacket.

They were good eye-candy, Tony conceded reluctantly. It was only when Steve began to strode over to him that his feelings of admiration quickly dissipated, remembering why he was even there in the first place.

Tony purposely timed himself so that he would be sipping his drink when Steve and Bucky promptly reached his table. He set his cup down, seeing Steve raise an eyebrow at him. He was puzzled at first, until he realized what Steve wanted—they were in public, and he was to behave accordingly like a good submissive would in public.

Tony felt a hot flash of anger at that. _Over my dead body will I pull a chair out for Steve fucking Rogers,_ he thought bitterly. Over the past couple of weeks that the three of them had texted (while also ignoring NODS’ persistent emails about registering their match), Tony had discovered that Steve was much more of an… _overbearing_ presence than Bucky was.

Bucky was nice. Bucky was quiet. He was still _there,_ but he didn’t make Tony feel as suffocated as Steve did. Steve was…. Steve.

He realized that the two Doms had seated themselves without Tony pulling their chairs out for them, and he felt a flash of satisfaction. _Ha!_ he thought. _In your face, Steve._

His glee was short-lived, though, because a server came over to their table and politely, sounding most definitely sure of himself, asked, “Would you like a drink, Sirs? And a different beverage for your sub?”

Tony’s jaw dropped. Fuck that! Steve and Bucky didn’t get to dictate what he ate or drank! With a scowl, he was about to speak, when Steve politely declined to change Tony’s drink, just asking for two more coffees.

Fuming, Tony waited until the server disappeared behind the counter to project his scowl onto Steve. “I can’t believe he just—”

“Do you have your contract?”

Tony blinked. “What?”

Steve gave him a look, which, as much as Tony didn’t want to admit it, sent shivers down his spine at just how _stern_ it was. “Your contract, Tony. I asked you to—”

“I’ll give it to you when I want to,” Tony muttered, working his jaw furiously. It wouldn’t do well for him to snap, in public, nonetheless! They were in a small enough coffee shop that the chances of paps finding him was rare, but still. They were fucking bloodhounds when it came to him.

“Alright,” Steve responded, voice tight with displeasure. “Whenever you want to, you can hand it over.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said,” Tony drawled back. “Why are we meeting anyway, huh? If you’re here to ask me to become your sub, you’re crazy.”

“Actually, that’s exactly why we wanted to meet up with you.”

Tony blinked. What? Oh. Straight to the point, then.

Tony had to admit, he’d been hoping that Steve and Bucky had messaged him, asking him to meet with him because they _wanted_ to, because they _enjoyed_ his company. He supposed, though, with the way he’d treated them at the Tower, there really was no good reason for them to like him.

He hadn’t been expecting the slight pang of disappointment that he felt at that thought. As much as he didn’t want to be stuck with a Dom who could and possibly would control every aspect of his life, he had actually begun to think that Steve and Bucky weren’t that bad. They hadn’t yelled at him or snapped at him for the way he’d been behaving, or for bickering or sassing or just being really terrible in general at fulfilling a sub’s expectations.

Maybe they’d had enough of him, though. He wasn’t surprised; people always left him in the end. His heart constricted a little, remembering all of the one night stands he’d had with Doms when he was a stupid kid in college. How they’d used him, how they hadn’t cared for who he really was, only wanting him for the fact that he was willing to bend over for them whenever they wanted him to.

“Tony?”

Tony jerked.

“You alright?” Bucky carefully placed a hand on him, looking a little cautious.

Tony stiffened and pulled his arm back so that Bucky wasn’t touching him. “Yeah. I’m fine.” He cleared his throat, trying to look unruffled. “So, you were saying?”

Steve shot him a slightly suspicious look but continued on with what he’d been saying. “We arranged this date because we want you to be our sub, Tony. We like you. So, will you do the honour of accepting our request?”

So formal. So polite.

So… detached.

Tony jerked, feeling a strange, almost foreign coldness wash over him.

“No.” He stood up, tossed a couple of bills onto the table to tip the server, and headed straight for the door.

“Wha—Tony!”

He let the door fall shut behind him, the light tinkling of the bells sounding far too happy for his liking.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you thought, and if you have any ideas for this story! Ideas are always, always welcome - that's my rule ;)
> 
> Honestly, I need more Marvel friends, so come chat and become friends with me at:
> 
> Email: larrypalik123@gmail.com  
> Instagram: stardreamer_422  
> Wattpad: stardreamer_422  
> Fanfiction: Teddy1008  
> Twitter: stardreamer_422  
> Tumblr: stardreamer-422


End file.
